The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey
by journey-scribe
Summary: Instead of Bilbo Baggins, Bailey Baggins is the chosen burglar for the adventuring party of dwarves. Very similar to the movie, as I watched it once in theaters before beginning this story, it is based on the first of the three Hobbit movies to come with Bilbo namely as a female hobbit instead! I hope you enjoy! I thank my sister - *chibicca on deviantART - for the cover image!
1. Chapter 1

"Good morning," Bailey repeated; a bit more forcefully that time. The old wizard had made her nervous, and she felt the need to return to the safety of her home. The door clicked behind her, as did the lock. "Well, that was a visit I don't care to repeat...ever..."

But a sudden scraping sound at the door jolted chills up her spine. "Wh-what?" She whirled around, eyes wide with fear but her own front door prevented her from seeing what was happening on its other side.

Scraaaaaape all along the wooden plate. Whimpering, the hobbit hurried to the window to attempt to peer out and see the damage being done. In the very corner of the frame, she could spot the very same wizard bending forward and doing something to her poor door! But just as she was attempting to identify it, the wizard suddenly appeared in the window, face-to-face with her, but more like eye-to-eye with how close he had drawn to the glass in such an instant.

Half-gasping and half-shrieking, Bailey shrank back in fear. After a moment of staring inside, Gandalf disappeared back behind the door. Exhaling deeply, the young hobbit rubbed her hands together as though to shake off the most recent memory. Surely he wouldn't come inside and, eventually, he'd go away. "Well...it-it's time for lunch."

The delightful sizzle filled her ears as she sprinkled the last bit of green leaf upon the nearly completely cooked fish. Breathing in the aroma, she couldn't help but feel the perfection of that moment: surely the comforts and treasured luxuries of Hobbiton were unmatched by anything else. Surely this adventure Gandalf had aforementioned could not equal the comforts of Bag End.

Just as Bailey was seating herself at her mahogany dining table, lifting the knife to her cooked fish to slice off the first bite, the moment of delicious silence was interrupted by a loud and untimely knock at her front door. "Oh, now what?" she whined softly, though willing herself to push the moaning back and stand to answer the door.

She immediately noticed the large visitor before her: a head or two taller than her, bald with a large beard, and a stern, purely serious face to greet her with. "Dwalin," he greeted, pausing briefly, almost as though for her to respond.

Mouth hanging open at the very sight of such a being, Bailey instinctively raised both eyebrows as a sign of not comprehending the word spoken and slowly shook her head as though no word came to mind to say back.

"At your service," the apparent Dwalin completed, bowing his head in subtle respect.

"Oh! Oh, that's your name-" Bailey stopped herself, stammering back into etiquette. "Um, and Bailey Baggins at yours."

Stepping in without invitation, the large dwarf made his way past the hobbit and into her home. "So where is it?"

"Uh-uh-where is what?" Bailey asked quickly, hurrying after him. She was still flabbergasted by his stepping in without her say.

"He said there would be a hot meal waiting for us when we arrived," Dwalin replied casually, not even acknowledging that she didn't have a clue what he was talking about.

Bailey's auburn eyes widened in gradual panic. "Who...said?"

The entire meal Bailey had planned to enjoy for the rest of her evening had disappeared to satisfy the hunger of her unexpected visitor within all of five minutes. Munching away at the last of the meat found on the cooked fish bone, Dwalin stared at the skeleton of the fish a moment longer before finally biting the entire head right off as well.

Bailey's jaw dropped in utter shock, nose crinkling at the sickening sight.

"Mm, this is good food," Dwalin finally commented, mopping the remaining juice from the plate with one of her newly baked golden rolls. "Is there any more?" he asked with a full mouth.

Feeling it as good a time as ever to revive her questions, Bailey stood to comply with a plate full of rolls. But making her way toward him struck her with a horrible image: the picture of him dumping them all into the bottomless pit called his stomach and the perfection of the bread being naught but a faint memory. Stunned by the horrible prophecy, she subtly snagged a roll off the top of the pile before completing her journey to the dining table. "Here you are," she replied with her best attempt at polite under the circumstances.

As he reached to grab a few in his stout fingers at a time, Bailey opened her mouth to ask her question.

But, robbing her of the opportunity, there came another similar bang at her front door.

"That would be the door," Dwalin stated; obviously a 'big help'.

"What-?" she began to question it aloud, but her voice trailed off, predicting this Dwalin would offer no information actually useful. Perhaps this other visitor would be a bit more accommodating.

Balin was an older, snowy bearded dwarf, shorter than the last and far friendlier. But he ignored Bailey's questioning just the same and the moment he and Dwalin bashed their heads together as a long-waited, affectionate, brotherly greeting, she gave up on trying getting anything out of them. Even when she insisted they needed to get out and immediately, apologetically as she could, all they verbally acknowledged was the apology that came with it, accepting it most 'graciously'. Then the bell rang again.

Yet again, she cautiously opened the door. With the navy blue sky to their backs, two younger-looking dwarves stood side-by-side. One with dark hair and with one with gold, they stared only a moment before making their introductions. "Fili," the blond offered in a friendly tone. Immediately after, the brunette said his name.

"And Kili." Then, in unison, as though rehearsed for many years, they both went for a brief bow, speaking as twins in accents Bailey thought odd, "At your service."

The moment their faces were shown again, after the bow, Kili was abruptly smiling pleasantly. "You must be Mrs. 'Boggins'!"

Not bothering to point out the incorrect pronunciation, Bailey quickly shook her head amidst a polite returned bow. "No, no, you can't come in – you've got the wrong house, I'm sorry!" Flustered, she tried to close the door, shoving back the guilt for rejecting a visit. Suddenly, a strong arm got in the way of the motion, rendering her unable to completely close it.

"What? Has it been cancelled?" Kili's chocolate eyes widened in shock at her reaction, having stepped in the way to continue the discussion.

"Nobody told _us,_" Fili submitted in soft confusion, glancing between Bailey and his presumed brother.

"Canc—what? No, what are you talking about, nothing's been _cancelled!_—"

This was enough invitation for the two of them. "That's a relief!" Kili grinned, pushing his way on in, followed by his large brother, who merely paid her a brief glance of confusion.

Bailey dropped her head back to moan, having yet to notice Fili had not yet left her side.

"These," he stated to get her attention as he removed something wrapped about his shoulder.

With a start, she looked toward him, instinctively holding out her arms as he tossed something toward them. "Wh-?"

"I just had 'em sharpened," he explained as though that should especially mean something to her.

"What…are they-?" _Weapons_. Her realization interrupted her question. Which was good, because Fili seemed to have no inclination to answer her. There was now a large - thankfully sheathed - pair of swords in her arms. Just as panic was striking her face, Kili strutted back into range, right past her but through a different doorway as though he had just given himself an entire tour of her abode.

"It's nice, this place!" he exclaimed, twirling a bit to briefly view the mahogany structure. "Did your father or, brother maybe, do it himself?"

"Uh—no, it," Bailey concentrated on catching whatever else Fili was casually removing from within his fur cloak. "It's been in my family for many generations-!" Her voice raised upon noticing Kili's boot scraping a certain treasured possession in order to clean away muddy footprints. "_That's _my mother's glory box! Please don't do that!" she gasped to rapidly suck in her angered breaths. She was all but ignored as the twins wandered in search of something. _Probably dinner,_ she bitterly assumed.

As they continued into the warm depths of her home, none of the four offered any explanation as though she ought to know exactly what invitation they seemed to be enjoying, which she supposedly extended to them yet had no recollection of.

"Ah, a well-stocked pantry, hobbit," Balin – the elderly and probably most polite of the four yet to arrive - commented upon her arrival as he loaded up his arms with more plates of pastries and cheeses.

"Ohh," Bailey whimpered, lifting tense fingers up to her head and running them through her disheveled chestnut hair.

"Were the others far behind you, Kili?" Dwalin asked from the other side of the pantry, somehow ducked behind her formerly stocked shelves even in his massive height and width.

"What-others?" Bailey felt a head taller suddenly with how much she'd stiffened at the words. "H-h-how many others are there?" she managed to suppress all but one minimal squeak of horror in her already tired voice.

There was no answer: the dwarves merely continued their pleasant conversation as though she didn't exist.

Breathing deeply through her pursed lips, the young hobbit set her hands on her hips in frustration. That was getting annoying.

Then came _another_ knock at the door.

"Noooo!" Bailey whimpered, dragging her feet to the door. "Nobody is home! Please, just go bother someone else: I have enough dwarves in here as it is!" Even as she verbally denied entrance to whomever had done the knocking, she couldn't stop her friendly hand from opening the door in response to the call. But she had to jump back quickly from them to involuntarily enter the moment the final obstacle was removed. A pile of several dwarves – it felt a dozen from where Bailey stood – came toppling onto her wooden floors before her feet.

Mouth hanging open in utter shock, Bailey found herself speechless. A count of eight more were scrambling to their feet as they mumbled and conversed as though their unrehearsed dog pile had been nothing out of the ordinary.

But at the back, the hobbit spotted a taller visitor: one who looked just the same as when she had seen him that very same morning. "Gandalf," Bailey greeted with a mix of emotions: she was unsure of whether to be terrified of the wizard's unruly behavior, betrayed by his disrespect of her final decision to not go on any adventures, or to be just relieved that someone tall, far less broad, and with a sense of at least some etiquette had finally entered the premises.

"Bailey Baggins," Gandalf greeted with perhaps a sympathetic smile and a polite nod. Ducking in under the round doorway, the wizard entered after the dwarves – upon introducing themselves – hurried inside, she bitterly assumed, to find the food promised before.

The hobbit frantically led the wizard inside and, after being pushed to get him a fine glass of brandy and a comfortable chair, was finally able to blurt out her demands. "Gandalf, please, at least you will afford me some kind of explanation-wh-why do I have a dozen dwarves who have barged in here, expecting a meal, expecting they can just take my wine and-and drink it, and expecting me to just go along with-" Her words trailed off upon being addressed from behind.

"Pardon me, Ms. Baggins?" Ori, a younger one of the group with no beard but a large scarf to cover the bottom half of the face and light red hair braided in some random areas but otherwise straight in both bangs and past the shoulders, lifted an emptied plate to visually explain concern. "Where should we put our plates?"

While the flustered Baggins was still opening her mouth to answer, Kili – a brown-haired warrior who had handed her all of his weapons at the beginning to be put away and was nothing short of expressive in his boisterous personality – approached Ori to answer the question himself. "Here, Ori, give it to me."

With a soft gasp of disagreement, Bailey took a step to prevent the exchange, but – near quick as lightning – Kili had already taken her fine china into his hand and was tossing it down the hallway and out of her line of sight.

At this there was no suppressing the horrified shriek. "Wh-what are you doing? Pleeease do not throw that! That china was passed all the way down from my great-grandmother and it is very, very fragile!" She was dashing around the corner in time to see the target of the toss – one of the other dwarves had caught the plate with ease and was proceeding to toss it down the other half of the hallway to a waiting dwarf.

"What?" Bailey half-whispered in disbelief, her lungs robbed of any remaining oxygen. It was then a rhythmic banging on her mahogany dining table shot her gaze to several dwarves knocking her butter knives and forks downward against the wooden surface then, across from one another, slashing the silver pieces along each other's edges in beats three and four to the tune they drummed. "Oh! No, don't do that! You'll blunt them!"

"Oh-ho," one of the dwarves, with a heavy accent and a massive hat sticking every which way seemed only amused by her anxiety, "Do ya hear that, laddies? She said we'll blunt the knives!"

Laughter erupted as a suspicious plan was hatching in their mischievous minds.

"Blunt the knives, bend the forks," Kili half-sung, low and with a grin of anticipation, the two phrases, striking even more horror – if possible – onto Bailey's wide-eyed face. But he merely chuckled as if no violence or destruction were included in the lyrics.

Bailey exclaimed in fear, hurrying after the singing dwarf. "No, no, not a good idea! Nothing enjoyable whatsoever about-!"

"Smash the bottles, burn the corks!" a few others chimed in, only leaving the poor hobbit to whimper helplessly, rushing her fingers along her hair.

The melody sped up and the horrific words continued. "Chip the glasses, crack the plates," Fili resumed, tossing a few more plates – one after the other – into the alert hands of his brother and soon followed in a practical shout for the last line.

"That's what Bailey Baggins hates!" all continued with raising voices.

Bailey's heart beat a dozen times faster as plates, bowls, glasses, silverware, pots all soared through the air at differing speed, ricocheted by any limb or stomach of the nearest dwarf and into the hands of Dori waiting by the sink.

"That's what Bailey Baggins hates!" By the end of other such tormenting lyrics, the dwarves were laughing, eyes bright and mouths wide with big, half-drunken grins.

It seemed Bailey's fear of the outcome of the song had been the only thing holding her up as she melted onto the nearest possible seat by the end of it: in this particular case, her firm, closed sewing chest. What had she done to deserve such chaos within her comfortable home; such an invasion of unwelcome and quite unwanted, hungry, greedy, messy guests? She just couldn't figure it out.

"Dear Bailey Baggins," Gandalf's voice drew her out of her miserable thoughts. He loomed over her with a peculiar compassion in his eyes yet a tint of confusion as well. "Whatever is the matter?"

"'What is the-?" Bailey's mouth opened before she could manage the words, slowly shaking her head in disbelief up toward the wizard. "What the matter is is the state of my house! I have a dozen dwarves ransacking my pantries, they're-they're-they're trailing mud into the very depths of my fine rugs, I-I won't even start with the state of the kitchen and the bathroom! It isn't that I do not like guests, but I do not even know these dwarves, nor why they are here, and not one of them are even bothering to explain to their hostess the very occasion of this abrupt and untimely party that she is hosting!" She ended with a deep breath, her pink lips pursing together as though to suppress any more irritation that wished to taint her words.

Gandalf smiled slowly. "The Bailey Baggins that I knew at one time...would hardly be more concerned about her rugs..." he paused to lean his forearm against the top of the short wall beside her. "Than she would about what opportunities have come to her by the arrival of these dozen...'dirty dwarves,'" he added the last part with a subtle chuckle though his piercing, cerulean gaze watched her with a genuine, almost intense focus.

"You do not know me-" Bailey quickly reiterated from their morning conversation, shaking her head with her fluffy brown ponytail dancing behind her head in suit. "For I did not know you other than for the fame of your delightful fireworks, so how could you have known me if I did not know you?"

Gandalf shook his head patiently. "You do not know me, but I have known you for many years, Bailey Baggins."

Bailey's thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but the wizard merely continued.

"You may have the blood of a Baggins; the desire for a comfortable home and the concern for the pleasantries of maintaining your beloved Bag End – never doing anything unexpected - but you also have the blood of a Took."

The hobbit's teeth gritted, almost regretfully toward the mention of her entwined lineages.

"Your great-great-grandfather on the side of the Tooks had no short amount of courage nor of adventure in his time. He was a hobbit so large he was able to ride a real horse, Bailey Baggins!" Gandalf explained, leaning in slightly closer with his earnest desire to persuade her.

"I-I know, I know..." Bailey attempted to close the discussion quickly, waving it off with her hand and turning her troubled gaze far from the wizard's. "You..." she suddenly caught on to the direction of his words, slowly looking back up at Gandalf in realization. "You speak as though there is a journey ahead of me."

Gandalf's eyes remained fixed on her, but he said nothing.

"But..." Bailey's eyebrow twitched in her fearful tension, "I just know you would not force me into something I do not want to do, Gandalf."

Gandalf continued to stare, yet his resolute eyes softened ever so slightly. "Is it?"

Bailey stared back, unblinking for a long moment as though in a daze, but she finally shook her head, closing her eyelids briefly to awaken from it. "Is what?"

Gandalf offered a subtle smile beneath his bushy, silver beard, leaning in closer and lowering his voice halfway to a gentle whisper. "You spend most of your days reading, reading of the world that is out there and the adventures that such authors have had within it...not an activity for just any, everyday hobbit; tell me, have you never thirsted for adventure yourself, Bailey Baggins? Do you not long to see it for yourself?"

Bailey blinked several times to cover up the vulnerability flickering in her nut brown eyes; the curiosity welling up within her heart as an uncontrollable spring that the everyday activities of Hobbiton could only numb down, but never completely alleviate.

One more abrupt knock at the front door jerked the hobbit back into her surroundings, when she had just found herself miles away. The merriment and chattering in the other room died down at the hollow sound of a gauntleted hand against the plate of wood.

"He is here," Gandalf half-muttered.


	2. Chapter 2

Involuntarily, Bailey's eyes widened in fearing the worst. "Wh-who is here? He was invited as well, please tell me."

The seriousness and anticipation in Gandalf's eyes all but faded when he looked back down into hers. A soft smile formed naturally as though to ease the terror in the young hobbit''s eyes. "Yes, Bailey Baggins. There is one more to have been expected: the thirteenth member of the party."

"Oh, there are thirteen," Bailey repeated, shoulders relaxing as she hopped to her feet to answer the door. "Would it have hurt to tell me that number a bit earlier?" she mumbled to herself as she wrapped her hands about the golden knob to open the door, Gandalf stepping along behind her and ducking under the chandelier his head had nearly been victim to a collision with.

Before her and the wizard stood one more dwarf, nearly a foot taller than Bailey, who had previously stood with his head turned from the doorway before she had responded to his call. He turned calmly to face her, displaying a very stern face with bold black eyebrows, trimmed beard and long black hair, stunning sky blue eyes – like the pale shade to follow the sunrise of a cold morning – and clad in black leather and tan hide for a presumed long and laborious journey ahead. The dwarf nodded toward her as a formal greeting but spoke to Gandalf behind her. "Gandalf," he opened simply with a low, deep voice as he stepped inside – like all the others – without formal invitation, "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. Wouldn't have found it at all were it not for the mark on the door." He glanced about his surroundings in a small amount of curiosity, but his statement caught Bailey's attention above his actions.

"A mark…? What mark-that door was very recently painted-" she was soon interrupted but politely by Gandalf.

"There is a mark there now, Bailey, I…put it there myself," Gandalf answered, folding his hands over his front with suspicious nonchalance. But his back was stiff as he began the introduction. "Bailey Baggins, I would like you to meet the leader of our traveling band, Thorin Oakenshield."

The silence to otherwise surround the scene felt as though all time had stopped around Bailey. She could sense the respect from all of her other guests just by the lack of noise the moment this Thorin had come in sight.

"So," Thorin turned his gaze toward Bailey again, tossing his large, fur cloak into the ready arms of Kili, who, like many others, had gathered nearby, "This is the halfling."

Bailey opened her mouth, but knit her eyebrows at the odd wording. "I am...a halfling," she cleared her throat before continuing. "I am Bailey Baggins, sir." She added the 'sir' to assure she meant no disrespect just by clarifying her own name to him.

"Mm," Thorin nodded, eyes glancing over her briefly before shifting toward Gandalf with a trace of skepticism lit with amusement on his face.

She took the chance of him not piercing her with his gaze to breathe in and out more steadily. She could not let the stresses of the previous events from the night prevent her from acting in a business-like manner to the leader of her unwelcome visitors. Perhaps now she could ground out the sole purpose of the thirteen dwarves' arrival and – if she was lucky – compensation for the grave damages done to both her formerly stocked pantry and the previous general cleanliness and loveliness of her home.

While there was a pause between any words spoken, she thought it ought to be a good opportunity to propose they get to the business side of the visit, but the dwarven leader spoke just as she was thinking through what polite introduction to offer to the proposal.

"How much experience have you, Bailey Baggins?" Thorin asked, calmly pacing past her.

"Uh-" Bailey's eyebrows furrowed as she sought an answer to yet another odd question: she would only humor the curious dwarf as it was a more negotiable way to handle the circumstance. "I have a variety of talents, you might say," she stated to seem a competent hostess, cutting around unnecessary technicalities, such as what the talents might be.

"Do you fight?" Thorin asked before she even had a chance to say more; though, she wasn't likely to.

"Well-" Bailey paused, eyes wandering to the large sword on Thorin's belt, which he had yet to remove as the others had their weapons. "I...have hunted before," she offered vaguely, not bothering to mention she had only hunted – in fact – a total of four times in all of her life. Jumping at the chance within the brief silence, she added, "I beg your pardon, but why do you ask?" She winced at her frankness, but it seemed no ruder than his had been.

Thorin briefly glanced at Gandalf as though there was no need to answer her. "And your experience? Have you...ventured on a journey such as this before?"

Bailey chewed on her lip briefly, attempting to detain any sarcastic or rude remarks about his lack of manners. "A journey such as…what?" she asked with a click of her tongue and only a tint of impatience edging her words.

The dwarf stared at her a moment longer, before smirking a little humorlessly and turning his gaze down the hall and toward his companions. "I thought as much," he half-muttered, glancing back at his company. "More like a housewife than a burglar." The insult – though perhaps in light jest – was accompanied with an easy smirk in her direction while the other dwarves laughed behind him. With that, he strode into the dining room with his companions, likely ready for food just as the others were.

Bailey's mouth opened in faint surprise at the insulting manner, but – through clenched teeth – she willed herself to remain a decent hostess. "You must be hungry..." she called after him. "Much as your companions were," she muttered the final part in faint bitterness. Bailey merely felt like glaring after him in obvious disdain, but prevented it with the redeeming thought that she was 'better than that'.

"Ah, don't let him get to ya," the very…young? voice of Ori approached behind her, almost as though empathetic to the offended Halfling. "He doesn't mean to offend you so."

Bailey turned to face the dwarf though still unsure what exactly she was going to say in response. But no words came especially when something odd about the young dwarf's face caught her eye…the curve of both of Ori's irises, the darker eyelashes…and the lack of any facial hair at all even with how many inches taller the dwarf was than Bailey… "You," the Halfling softly gasped, shocked, relieved, and confused all at the same time.

Ori tensed considerably, though the scarf covered up to eyes and the bridge of the nose.

"You are…are you a…female?" Bailey whispered, the statement turning into a question as she leaned closer. She didn't want to be rude, but she was nearly one hundred percent certain she was correct.

Ori didn't respond immediately; a good sign the hobbit wasn't mistaken. "You…" eyes narrowing as though any words were difficult after that, Ori hesitantly answered her questions just through her next question, "You will say nothing of this, aye?"

Intrigued by the earnest desire for secrecy, Bailey paused a moment before answering. "O-of course, I didn't…" she bit her lip to prevent any further rambling, "Of course I won't."

Relieved, her feminine chestnut eyes crinkled with unspoken appreciation, and she turned to follow the others into the dining hall, leaving Bailey to gaze after in wonder.

"So..." the large, burly voiced dwarf called Dwalin addressed Thorin whilst he ate the belated dinner. "Are our brothers with us?"

At this, Thorin slowed his chewing, pausing to take a sip of the wine provided. His eyes lowered at the question, or perhaps the answer he bore to it. There was silence in anticipation for the answer, only to be disappointed by its arrival. "No," Thorin replied quietly, his jaw shifting in recalling the conference he'd attended that same day. "No, we are on our own for this quest – none of the others deemed it a worthy mission...with so high a risk."

Licking her lip in determination, Bailey slipped in between the twins Fili and Kili who had been blocking her way from Gandalf. Though the wizard was seated right beside Thorin, she hoped the dwarf would be too distracted to hear her ask her question. "What...mission are they going on, exactly, Gandalf?"

Gandalf lifted a bushy eyebrow as he refocused his distant gaze upon her, seemingly unsure of whether to smile or – strangely – view her with unusual concern. But the hobbit's wish had not been granted, as it was Thorin who, in fact, answered her question upon overhearing its whisper.

"We travel to the city of Erebor; to reclaim that which is ours..." the Dwarven prince's eyes wandered to the empty bowl before his folded arms, "That which was taken from us decades ago..."

Her face flushed at interrupting with her curiosity, but the embarrassment dispersed upon receiving an answer. "An...entire city? And just the fourteen of you are going?" she asked in subtle disbelief, but refraining her voice from any sympathetic squeaks for fear of giving the wrong impression.

Thorin pressed his palms against the surface of the table to lean back in Bailey's favorite armchair. "Thirteen dwarves and – of course – our burglar."

Instinctively reaching to take the empty dishes from the table and into her ready arms, Bailey tilted her head with polite inquisitiveness. "Your burglar?"

As if on cue, Gandalf cleared his throat very obviously, drawing Bailey's attention away from the dwarf. Thorin had opened his mouth to speak but, paying Gandalf a brief glance, closed it once more, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"Well you of course, Ms. Baggins!" Dori, short and stocky, gray-haired with a particularly mischievous crinkle to his eyes, offered helpfully from the other end of the table, with a big grin on his face.

Any air within Bailey's lungs all but abandoned her right then. She had suspected Gandalf of such a scheme by the peculiar arrival of the dwarves, but she had not counted on the wizard both making the decision for her and telling these dwarves about it already!

"We leave tomorrow morning," the one with a large hat, whose name still escaped her, submitted, nodding toward her to make a point. "You'll have to be ready by sunup."

"What—but you haven't even asked me!" she exclaimed, quickly growing flustered with cheeks bright as radishes, "How do you know I will accept the job?"

Thorin watched her until she finished, already prepared with his answer but allowing her to complete the thought, then turning his gaze to the presumed eldest of the dwarves present. "Balin, a contract for the halfling."

Balin straightened as though he had almost forgotten, slipping his hand within his cloak while mumbling something to the effect of, "Oh, yes, of course." It was only moments later that the white-haired dwarf approached Bailey with a gleam in his eye and a rolled up scroll in his hand. "Here is your contract; just a bit of routine, agreements and terms on the traveling expenses, food, insurance – that sort of thing."

He mumbled the explanation so fast to an already stunned Bailey that all she could manage was take the scroll in her hand and move into the next room to look it over silently, pursing her lips in determination not to lose track of the matter at hand nor how she should handle it.

As she did so, Thorin leaned in toward Gandalf. "Are you certain of this, wizard? You know that I can neither guarantee her safety..."

"Yes," Gandalf nodded, the smoke he had blown from his pipe proving as some target for his thoughtful gaze.

Thorin glanced toward the hobbit, who busied herself with overlooking the paper before her, mumbling to herself about how everything seemed to be fair and in order – hobbits couldn't help their curiosity, but could only embrace it. "Nor will I be accountable...should anything happen to her. Orcs, goblins, what have you will not care that she is female nor how helpless she will be on this journey."

Gandalf hesitated, eyes saddened by the image offered, but finally nodded once more. "Yes...I know. But you know the value of her kind; she will be unnoticed, unheard by any foe if she can merely will it to be so. Nor will Smaug smell her from a mile away, as he would a dwarf. You told me to find your fourteenth member, and Bailey Baggins is the one that I have chosen."

Exhaling deeply, almost reluctantly, the dwarven prince nodded. "Then so be it."

"'I-in case of...'" as their discussion ended, the two overheard her reading aloud a list that had caught her eyes – the 'in case of's implying any potential way that she might be killed...it appeared she had yet to catch on to that particular purpose for the list however. "'Incineration'?" she pronounced with emphasis, wide brown eyes turning to Balin questioningly.

"Well, the beast we are to face," Balin lifted a hand within his explanation. "Is the legendary Smaug...the beast who took our kingdom from us in the first place, Baggins."

"He is a dragon," the nameless dwarf added to further clarify as he stood and made his way in Bailey's direction. "Just a mere sneeze from his massive snout and you could be reduced to naught but a pile of ash, missy," he offered cheerily, as though the news were nothing to be disturbed about.

However the color in the hobbit's face vanished in an instant and her eyes grew hazy.

"You alright there, lassie?" Balin asked, watching her with a fairly softened, knowing countenance.

"I, er..." Bailey reached to brace against a wall she'd yet to realize wasn't within reach, only to find herself on wobbly legs with no support, "I can't imagine-No, I-!" the words got no farther before her body dropped like a block of gold to the carpet beneath her, all consciousness banished from her body by the fright imposing upon it.

All thirteen dwarves stared in utter surprise at the small hobbit going limp right in the middle of their pleasant conversation, unsure of how to react in that moment.

"Quite the help you were, Bofur!" Gandalf exclaimed, tapping his pipe against his hand to put it out before climbing his way to the unconscious halfling.

A soft whimper was the first sound she made, drawing the wizard's gaze from the window once again. Head lifting slowly before her eyes were even opened, Bailey soon found that to be a bad idea and merely dropped it back into the fluffy embrace of her pillow. "I fainted, didn't I?" she asked upon peeking through her eyelashes at her bedside visitor.

Gandalf smiled lightly, nodding in a chuckled response as he continued to smoke the pipe he had re-lit.

"Finally snapped," Bailey added, pursing her lips and shaking her head in shame. "I don't really fancy the imagery your friend gave me just then..."

"Yes," Gandalf nodded sympathetically, "Bofur has a tendency to let his tongue wander as a jackrabbit might about a tortoise, and failed to put your nerves into consideration."

"Yes, Bofur – that's his name – well, he and all the others, Gandalf...they expect me to be something...that I am...well, not!" Passion growing in her eyes, the hobbit soon sat up to continue. "I have never burgled-n-never stolen anything in all my life, Gandalf, and they want me to steal from a dragon now? You ought to have known simply by my eloquent speech about a hobbit's lack of adventure-er, lack of desire for adventure just this morning that I could not take them up on their offer!"

"Oh, I understand you have never been a burglar before, but that hardly implies that you are not a capable one, my dear Bailey Baggins," Gandalf expressed with an easy smile.

"Well-well," Bailey shook her head, already growing flustered once more, "Wh-wh-whether or not I would make a good one does not change the fact that...I cannot go on this journey. I simply will not and cannot sign my name upon that contract because I simply know that my place is here and not out searching for riches or adventure or anything else that that world has to offer." Along with that came a conclusive nod as she crossed her arms in a finalizing manner. That was that.

Gandalf stared a painfully long moment straight into her eyes, which avoided ever meeting his gaze. When it seemed the end to it would never come, Gandalf finally climbed to his feet. "Very well. We are heading east at first light tomorrow...should you happen to change your mind."

Bailey nodded simply, too on edge to attempt at denying that she could even reconsider when she overheard the low voices slowly and – strangely beautifully – emanating from her living room. It was singing..."What is that?" she asked nonetheless, hoping for a better explanation than she could give herself.

Gandalf's gaze wandered from the direction of the music and back to the troubled hobbit who listened with an almost serene focus to the slow, mystical sounds of the song. "The dwarves sing of the journey ahead of them...of that which they might lose...and that which they might find."

Eyes distant in wonder toward the very mystery of the tune, the hobbit said nothing more.

Slowly smiling as he read the expression upon her face, Gandalf rose to his feet once more, taking her contract from the bedside table between his fingers, and – receiving a struggling glance from the young Baggins – made his way back toward the hallway from her bedroom. "I will leave you to rest, Bailey Baggins." That was all he said before bending downward to disappear behind the small, round door.

Eyelids closing in upon her troubled brown eyes, the hobbit whimpered softly toward her difficult decision, even as she knew her answer...or at least she thought she did. But, even as her mind swam with memories of words spoken to her that night and thoughts of what her responses ought to have been or still to be, the worried halfling finally drifted into sleep, merely lying back upon her soft, embracing cushion and pillow and sliding her covers over her side. Her eyelids closed completely and her thoughts wandered away in exhaustion from matters at hand: all to the sober and solemn sound of the dwarves singing their song: the song of the journey at hand.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning arrived like a bird's sweet melody, reviving a moment of joy and relief within Bailey Baggins. Then she recalled the horrible night before and it drew her wide eyes to the window. The sun was up – they had already left...unless it was merely a dream. As she climbed out of bed, she almost felt a rush of anticipation within her stomach, almost worry that she...wouldn't find her previous company there anymore. She felt a strange fondness for the horrible time last night...it was out of the ordinary, it was something different, something she could never have predicted and that felt...oddly enjoyable.

The hallway rug was still coated in last night's dirt and filth from the dwarves' boots, but none of their boots were found against the wall beside the entrance nor anywhere else for that matter. The dishes were stacked into remarkably sturdy structures beside the sink but still dirty and the silverware was piled expertly within the sink, waiting to be washed. The pantry, as she had completely expected, was practically naked of its previous content, but there was plenty for her to serve herself breakfast before she hit the marketplace to restock.

Finally, she came upon her living room, where she presumed the dwarves had all slept. It was empty...silent...and perfectly clean as though none had ever lodged there, though she knew they had. All of their belongings were gone as was every one of the dwarves she met last night. It was then she felt an iron lump of disappointment drop within the hollowness of her stomach: she missed them...her head couldn't explain it, her growling stomach was glad they were gone, but her heart kept tugging at strands of regret. Why hadn't she gone with them when she'd had the chance? Why had she been too stubborn to go on her very first adventure?

Then Gandalf's words entered her thoughts, just as they had the night before: 'We are heading east at first light tomorrow...should you happen to change your mind.' And it was then a long, neatly rolled-up page of parchment came into view upon the very corner of her coffee table – the dwarves' contract. She couldn't logically or even morally explain it, but – through the memory of Gandalf's words and her fascination with such an involved and unusual contract, despite its terrifying content – something finally clicked within the young hobbit and the Took words escaped her mouth before her Baggins nature could catch them. "They only just left. I still have time to catch up!"

Bailey was out the door within all of ten minutes, a large leather travel bag dangling from her shoulders whilst she merely carried her spare flask of water and the contract which gradually unrolled upon the Shire wind on her tail. She'd messily stashed a few dresses along with a set of trousers and a couple of her brother's old shirts, some parcels of bread and cheese – such as they were after the dwarves had raided her stores – and any necessities her hurried mind could produce within such a brief period of time.

Cries of astonishment and struggling exclamation to dodge the crazed hobbit quickly aroused attention from all of Bailey's neighbors as she raced straight across the streets toward the end of the shire.

Various breaths of apologies escaped Bailey's lips as she slipped about the many locals out and about but she didn't lift her nut brown eyes to a single face. She either had no time or no pride at this point in her decision. She was going and none would be able to stop her.

"Bailey Baggins?" an elderly man exclaimed, no doubt appalled at her sudden burst of unrestrained energy.

"Bailey, where are you going?" a familiar male voice of one of her childhood friends shouted after her.

Bailey merely kept darting along the neat dirt paths lined with the lush green lawns. "On an adventure!" She all but ignored her twinge of regret just as she had finished shouting like a mad man. Yet somehow she knew that this was right. It had never really crossed her mind other than the simplicities one learned as a child: right and wrong. But now, racing to what one might've called her destiny, she had learned at least one of the many definitions for the word 'right'.

Meanwhile, the dwarves' and Gandalf's ride just a mile or two from the Shire proved peaceful...yet in silent tension; anticipation of what lie ahead. Their well-trained ponies walked steadily, their hooves seeming to enjoy the sponge-like surface of the ground cultivated by the halflings, and the dwarves were merely quiet – apart from Fili and Kili chatting amongst themselves – because they were content with the journey and had yet to find anything of value to say to one another.

"'Tis a shame the halfling lass didn't join us," Bofur finally submitted as a mere passing thought. "I mean she hardly seemed a fighter of...well, really any sort, but..." he shrugged as though enough had been said, leaving the thought to dwindle in the air unless otherwise referenced.

Thorin, at the very front of the party, lifted his sky blue eyes to the sky in almost annoyance at his companion's comment. He, too, had been thinking of the hobbit; just how useless she would have been on the battlefield, merely fainting at the vague explanation of a dragon...why had Gandalf mocked them so in insisting upon her? Surely this mission was no game to the wizard. "She would've died of fright before we'd even left her homeland. Better she wasn't a fool enough to jump into her certain death..." he finally stated, nudging the reins of his pony just a little to maintain its guidance on the dirt path. "She was no burglar."

Though it was, perhaps, not unexpected, Gandalf remained quiet, his deep and thoughtful gaze wandering upon the road before them yet his mouth struggling with perhaps a hint of disappointment. But, again, he had no comment to make. Thorin had merely time to glance toward him for some form of a reaction before a faint and distant cry distracted his senses.

It came from behind; a female voice attempting to get someone's attention. "Waaaait!" she called.

Thorin's eyelids slowly dropped, hardly daring to even hope she wasn't addressing them and that 'she' wasn't who he thought it was. His dream wasn't to last as all thirteen dwarves and a wizard turned to lock eyes upon a disheveled and tired Bailey Baggins, panting in her excitement and – presumably – for having sprinted the few miles they'd already gone to catch up to them.

Thorin might have posed she'd merely come to see them off – to make with hobbit-like pleasantries, having been their former hostess, but he bit his tongue the moment he observed a large pack strapped about her shoulders. Regrettably, she had planned for a trip...their trip.

"I, uh..." despite her determination as she'd approached, Bailey smiled almost sheepishly for a moment, humbled – perhaps – by the unusually undivided attention from each and every one of them, "I signed the contract."

A brief moment of silence was followed by Balin accepting the parchment she eagerly offered up to him. A gleam of mischief lit in his eyes as he withdrew a looking glass from within his baggy cloak, winking toward the young halfling as he moved to examine the signature and the contract upon which it had been placed. Moments later the snow-bearded dwarf was turning his head to look at Thorin, his expression alone proving sufficiently informative. Thorin winced once more. He'd been afraid of that.

"Get her a pony," he released a heavy breath upon finishing the command.

Even through the satisfaction, Bailey's eyes widened toward the form the words of the agreement had taken. "A pony? Oh, uh...no, no, nooo that won't be necessary—see, you're not going too fast, I-I believe I could keep up with you," the less response she got to such expressions the more flustered she grew, incapable of noticing two strong hands lowering from either side.

Her panic escaped in a strange yelp when her body abruptly floated off the ground by the strength of the dwarves on either side of her: Bofur and Fili. As she was dropped efficiently upon the saddled back of a relaxed, chestnut brown pony which had previously been led by the hand of Kili just in front of her, Bailey's shoulders lifted high enough to rub her jawline within her tension.

"You ever ridden a pony before?" a familiar voice asked in front of her.

Finally peeking through one of her tightly closed eyes, she saw the curious and genuinely amused expression of Kili, who still bore the rope to drive her pony within his gauntleted hand.

"Oh, uh-no," Bailey did her best to straighten her posture in all politeness even as her terrified body would scarcely ease up from its stiffened state.

"Well, it shows!" Kili openly stated with a laugh. "It's easy as..." he shrugged and pursed his lips together in thought, "Well, er, it's pretty blame easy, so why don't you just give it a shot and see what happens, alright?" The question ended with another grin, but Bailey paled like a specter.

"No, no, that's alright, um...you can just...drive it...if I have to ride this-do I really have to ride it?" She might've continued her rambling were it not for what happened next.

"Alright, I'm gonna let go now," Kili stated, his booming voice overlapping hers and silencing her like a stone.

"What?" Bailey asked, frozen in fear.

Kili's grin widened, paying his brother – who rode next to Bailey – a brief glance of excitement just before continuing. "Bailey Baggins, you'd better catch!" In the same moment he was tossing the rope up in the air and straight toward her head.

Shrieking and gasping, Bailey scrambled both hands as the rope drew close, merely anticipating the doom to follow if she were unsuccessful. To her utter surprise, the rope stopped inches from her flailing arms, and – when she finally stopped to take a look – dropped with ease into her shaking fingers.

It came to her observation someone else had caught a hold of the rope for her. Fili smiled soberly upon meeting her gaze as he lowered his hand once again to aid his other in guiding his own mount. "Nothin' to it, Miss Baggins. All trial and error, really."

In a few short breaths, Bailey calmed down much as she could once again, grip tightening on the rope. But the more she adjusted, the more uneasy the pony seemed to grow stomping its hooves a little as it walked, then shifting back and forth. "Uhm...uhm!" Bailey was unsure of what problem exactly to address, but her neighbors had already been aware of the turmoil.

"She senses your tension, Bailey," Balin offered from behind her, nodding toward the stubborn reactions to any tugs the halfling made to the rope. "Loosen your grip."

"A pony is trained to know when to run and when to walk based on its master," Kili called, half-turned backward on his own mount and seeming to have no trouble at all.

"He thinks he's supposed to be running because a rider's always tenser at times such as that," Fili added, freeing a hand to move it toward Bailey's. She had already complied to Balin's suggestion, attempting to loosen the grip without losing the pony – but the more the pony attempted to quicken its pace the less she was inclined to allow it.

"No, no, don't go faster!" Bailey attempted to whisper where only the pony could hear, gently nudging both of her feet into the animal's sides.

"You're only scarin' her more with the eerie whisperin', Bailey Baggins," Kili said with an escaping chuckle.

"You're holding her back from running now," Fili continued, taking a hold of the reins and expertly maneuvering it back and forth until both Bailey and the pony allowed him control. "So you have to relax and give her an idea of what she's really supposed to be doing."

"Oh..." Bailey's cheeks flushed more with every tip offered, wanting for all the world to just jump off and demand the right to walk...maybe even go back on the contract; riding a pony seemed just so...so dangerous and frustrating and not worth the fuss!

Yet it was within a few minutes Bailey alone held the reins to her pony, sat straighter than she knew she even could upon its back, and guided the horse to stay on the line with basic knowledge of horsemanship in her favor. Finally, after getting over the fear of falling or being trampled or being stuck on a steed that randomly took off running rampant across the meadow until it went skidding mindlessly off a cliff, Bailey felt a surge of delight well up within her...she was riding a pony!


	4. Chapter 4

"Ori, Nori, get a fire going," Thorin stated, making his away across the soon-to-be camp to take a look from the nearby overhanging cliff – below them, the dark emerald woods merely emanated treachery to the dwarven prince. "Fili and Kili, take care of the ponies; we leave at first light tomorrow."

Bailey felt lost the moment she had stepped off her pony and it had been taken away by the twins; the dwarves were bustling about with things to do though only four had been given commands. Gandalf had left to some other places; dwindling how comfortable she felt in her current surroundings dramatically. What does one do when camp is being made and they've no skill in that particular area whatsoever?

"Baggins," Thorin's gruff voice reached her ears and she jerked her head in surprise he had even addressed her, though she hoped how oblivious she felt wouldn't show up on her face.

Thorin met her eyes with his icy gaze before nodding toward Ori and Nori expertly tossing some kindling into a pile and preparing to light it. "My men are hungry; make yourself useful."

Astonished by the unnecessary rudeness of the request, it took every bit of Bailey's willpower to prevent steaming like a boiling kettle. Only able to nod in response, Bailey lightened her stalking footsteps to avoid giving the prince the satisfaction of her exasperation. It also seemed apparent Thorin was unaware of Ori's secret…or he had simply included her among his men. Bailey didn't know their customs to having females on adventures – obviously, he didn't care that _she_ was there to be his cook. Really, she was too frustrated to contemplate it anymore anyway, so she quickly dropped the subject, full-knowing it would only make her angrier.

Her second command involved taking a bowl of her food – which turned out delicious, as nobody had yet commented – to both Kili and Fili, who had been assigned to watch the ponies. To her surprise, they were far away from the camp, both standing stiff side by side when she approached from behind. "Fili, Kili?" she called out, her teeth gritted with an agitated tone – she may have been comfortable enough to vent to the younger, friendlier ones of the dwarven company. There was no response, they were whispering among themselves alone and never even paid her a sideways glance – either they had seen a ghost or they were intentionally ignoring her. "It's, uh...it's dinnertime," she continued until she had come up right behind the middle of them. Surely they, too, wouldn't ignore her! But if they did, it would practically confirm that she was the unnoticeable and useless little beetle that she was beginning to feel like.

"Bailey," Kili was the first to answer, turning toward her – to her relief - setting an arm on the back of her shoulders and pulling her in between them. The usual amusement and sparkle in his auburn eyes had dimmed with concern.

"Whatever's the matter?" she half-whispered, abruptly intrigued and all but forgetting her previous aggravation.

Fili nodded solemnly toward the group of horses to which they'd been tending. "Thorin assigned us to take care of the ponies...to watch them..."

"Yes, and?" Bailey inquired anxiously, their worry both exciting and scaring her.

"We are missing two of them..." Kili finished, taking a deep breath in and out.

Bailey's jaw dropped, chestnut eyes narrowing as she counted them for herself. Sure enough, both a white and a brown were missing from the collective ponies; she recalled Bofur to be mounted on the brown and Balin on the white. "A-And, you didn't hear anything?" the halfling asked, moving to set the bowls of stew in each of their hands nonetheless, then stepping further among the moonlit trees to take a look around.

Kili shrugged in all openness for ideas. "Nope, not the smallest noise. Should we tell Thorin-?"

"Shh!" his brother interrupted with a jerk of his hand, eyes squinting as though they would lend some aid to his hearing.

Bailey froze like a statue, rewarded by the distant noise of...laughter? Low, deep-voiced laughter...it was a brief, boisterous chuckle somewhere further east from their campsite. "Don't suppose they're...horse thieves?" Bailey whispered, wide eyes glancing between the two compatriots. Trolls, they were called: three tan masses of bones, muscle and an extra helping of fat, with brains supposedly the size of a gnat, and – evidently – an appetite for dwarf-ridden ponies. Lazed about a campfire large enough for a dozen kings, one was quietly stirring liquid in an iron pot, another grumbling to himself but loudly, and the last sniffling as though he'd caught a nasty cold.

"Alright..." Fili whispered, squinting past surrounding leaves and branches to get a focused look, but they would have to move closer to see where their ponies were being held. "There are only three; how do ya feel about practicing some burgling, Bailey?"

The halfling swallowed, her gaze intent upon his. "You're serious..." she half-whispered glancing quickly and several times between her compatriot and their foes in the distance.

Fili's half-smile faded upon receiving her answer. "Well, I...I don't have to be." He glanced toward his twin brother a bit unsurely, who only shrugged in agreement.

"Youuu could just keep an eye on them...just, uh, be our scout then," Kili suggested, the lack of amusement on his face at least assuring Bailey he wasn't mocking her inability.

"Oh, okay, um...yep, what are you going to do?" Bailey asked quietly, shifting her weight against the crunchy, fallen leaves layering the damp ground beneath her.

"Uhh," Kili opened his mouth to answer, glancing toward the distant trolls, but his brother spoke up for him.

"We should get Thorin, come to think of it. There may only be three, but they're big...better safe than sorry," Fili answered, jaw tightening in seriousness.

A sudden burst of determination flickered in Bailey's eyes: perhaps something they had said or did. Either way, she found herself speaking up before she could stop herself. "You know what? You two go ahead and find your leader, I'm going to see if I can't free the ponies," Bailey whispered back, climbing to her feet from behind their hiding place, pursing her lips in preparation.

"What?" the twins asked in half-shock with timing less than a second apart from one another.

"Bailey, really, you don't have to do that..." Fili submitted with a chuckle, but the statement only made her more determined.

"Well, I'm..." the halfling swallowed, thinking it over for a moment. "I'm the burglar, it's what I do," she concluded with a ready nod, soon to wish she hadn't just said that.

A brief moment of silence passed before the two shrugged cooperatively. "Alright, well, we'll be back soon then," Fili stated, paying their foe one last wary glance before standing to back away.

"And don't try too hard to burgle, Bailey; someone might get hurt," Kili commented with a mirthful wink, as though the situation wasn't actually to be taken too seriously.

Bailey longed for as much confidence as he had. She couldn't even begin to explain what had possessed her into taking on this challenge. Maybe she wanted to prove she wasn't useless to the company...well, completely useless...or maybe Gandalf had been right about the Took blood coursing through her; maybe she'd always had this desire, dusty and pushed far back in the deep attic of her heart.

Getting closer to the trolls was no trouble; even if she hadn't been light on her feet, they were utterly oblivious to the crickets chirping, let alone a Halfling sneakily approaching. Even so when mere yards away, Bailey took every step with bated breath. Finally, her eyes spotted the ponies, their reins each tied in knots against a burly rope stretched between two trees. As the cautious Halfling dashed from one shadow to the next in their direction, the ponies stirred subtly, expressing a need for a soothing whisper to say it was alright. They were well-trained to believe her even when they had only just been hauled away and tied up by three large, hungry trolls.

"Don't tell me this is the same ol' broth from last night – we brought you 'orses to cook with this time; be a bit creative, will ya, Bill?" the grumpy, grumbling troll expressed, slapping his bulky knee for demanding emphasis.

The resulting thunderous sound merely veiled better the small hobbit's whimpering as she struggled with all her might to undo the knots of the ponies' reins.

"Well, I don't 'ave any new spices just 'cause you brought me a couple 'orses, Ted!" The troll who was stirring the aromatic liquid had also a gruff voice, though not as deep as Ted's, and scoffed as a mother would to a complaining child. "'Least we got a few chunks to add this time."

"Not really the meat I've been dreamin' o-o-O-O!" the sniffling troll was about to be a sneezing one, leaving his two companions merely to groan on his behalf, bracing for the burst.

Having given up on her hands, Bailey took advantage of the extensive poof of the sick troll's sneeze to dart behind him, narrowly dodging the tree-like arm as it swiped the handkerchief from within the belt on its back flank. Right next to the handkerchief's previous position, Bailey had spotted a dagger – well, a long sword for her. It crossed her mind she had no tool to cut the ropes with, so she would have to steal one of theirs.

"I've suddenly lost my appetite for soup...not that it took much," the grouch, Ted, muttered – his friend must have sneezed right in the pot, or at least come dangerously close. "Forget the broth, I'm starving – I'll just cook one of them beasts right over the fire."

Bailey froze, peering around from behind the sick troll to check on the ponies. Ted had yet to approach them or even climb to his feet yet, thankfully. She nearly forgot to duck when the sick troll whipped his arm back around to put away the handkerchief.

"Why don't ya make yourself useful, Ted," Bill stated, tossing a handful of green leaves into the pot, "Get to skinnin' and choppin' the beasts..."

Bailey gasped softly, pulling harder at the dagger's hilt. "Please just come out!" she whispered in misery. The weapon seemed jammed, its carved bronze hilt caught against the tough leather belt.

"Not till ya promise you ain't gonna toss 'em into that second-rate soup o' yours," Ted heaved a stubborn sigh.

"Oh, will you just go skin 'em, Te-e-E-E-" the sniffling troll approached again an impending sneeze.

"Ha!" Bailey gasped softly, finally successful in twisting and yanking the dagger out from behind the busy monster's belt. She started to dash back to the captured ponies, but as though a massive log being swiped through the air, Bailey's stomach was rammed by the sick troll's hand and he jerked her back around in front of him, her flailing legs tangled in his dirty handkerchief. She kicked and scraped with all limbs to escape his clutches, but he was gripping too tightly as he whipped the bundle up to his bulging nose and blasted all the snot from within only partially on the cloth, the rest all along the victim hobbit.

Bailey's entire body went stiff...drenched with the yellow slime...her mouth hung open, seeking some oxygen from the toxic blast and her eyes shut tight to still block out the horrors even after it was over. By the time she had recovered from disgust enough to peer out through her eyelids, she stared up into the big, confused, and ugly face of her accidental captor.

"Look!" he cried in his high-pitched voice, leaping to his feet in bewilderment. "Look what I made from mah nosers!"

Breathing heavily, eyes wide with panic, Bailey shifted her gaze rapidly between the three monsters as she was lifted before their eyes. She squirmed between his massive fingers but his grip had already tightened as a snare to its prey.

"What are you, a little bug?" Bill asked, itching to poke at her tiny body in his surprise. In reality, she was just small enough to still fit in the trolls' hands and far too large to be any bug _she_knew of, but she wasn't about to correct him on that.

"Uhh," she gasped for breath, growing paler if possible. "No, I-I'm not a bug, heh..." She tried to smile, fidgeting with her snot-ridden skirt. Stealth was no potential method now, relying on strength didn't even have a chance, so diplomacy would be her next resort. "I am a wandering burglar-er, hobbit! Nothing of interest."

"A burglar-'obbit?" the troll with the cold echoed in surprise.

"Are there more of ya nearby?" Ted asked, tilting his head with a seemingly clueless expression rather than the usual grumpy one.

Bailey opened her mouth, hesitating upon noticing the hungry gleam in the troll's eye. Well, truthfully, there were no halflings but 13 dwarves nearby...13 very capable dwarves, far as she could guess, and she sort of wished they were in her shoes right now – at least they would have a ridiculous weapon! She had only _just_stolen one and ended up dropping it the moment she was grabbed anyway! "No. No, it is just me." She sucked in her lips to prevent them from quivering with her fearful lie.

"Oh," the sneezing one expressed in disappointment, but Bill merely chuckled gruesomely.

"Oh, I think it be lyin', boys...I think it's got friends to eat too...it looks tender..."

"Looks sweet," Ted added with a toothy grin.

"No! I'm," Bailey shrugged, tilting her head back and forth in an attempt to keep their attention, "I'm a sort of loner, I travel alone...I was just dropping by because of my curiosity; for which I blame this unwelcome visit, so-"

"Shut it up, will ya? It'll alert its friends if it's allowed to talk," Bill stated, leaning down to hoist up a wooden mace from beside his seat.

"No, you're not listening! I have no friends-!" Bailey struggled, her ribs threatening to crumble while she twisted in the sick troll's slippery handkerchief to keep her eyes on the smarter of the three.

But her statement was contradicted when – in a silent instant - all of the dwarves at once suddenly darted out from the darkness in a wave of war cries and shouts, leaping straight into the fray with blades already slicing at the legs and guts of the flabbergasted monsters.

Bellowing in bewilderment, the trolls snatched their weapons up from the ground to retaliate, the sick troll throwing Bailey roughly by the campfire to free his hand for the fight.

Whimpering and cringing upon impact, the weakened halfling scrambled to her feet, dashing just...away...somewhere...to hide. She could feel tears welling up within her from the burst of pain but forced them back with several difficult blinks. She knew attempting to run to her allies would only result in her getting in the way or getting squashed by the ensuing chaos, so she slipped behind the nearest large stone produced from the caves nearby and scrunched behind it, watching the battle with wide, terrified eyes.

The dwarves seemed to be winning, she was relieved to observe, but Bailey grew more and more impressed as the warriors wove in and out with each other, working as though it were a dance they'd rehearsed. She may have seen them maneuver about to dangerously hurl her precious china throughout Bagend hall, but she felt a warm rush of awe against her rapid beating heart as they tore between the legs of the trolls, gradually cutting them down with patient techniques yet incredible strength.

As she released short, preparing breaths, Bailey's eyes paced about the battle for some opportunity to slip past the enemies: surely it would be simple enough to get by undetected in the middle of such a chaotic scene. The war cries, both from the dwarves and trolls, deafened the helpless hobbit as she sought some small opening. She could no longer tell who was winning in the midst of flailing arms and weapons and it wasn't until one of the dwarves shouted on the other side of the field, "Thorin, the ponies are free!" that she knew they were going to retreat and that she was on the wrong side.

Desperate and panicked – too panicked to observe only two of the three trolls lie ahead of her position and where she needed to run – the halfling darted across the monsters' camp in hopes of catching up with the dwarven warriors in no time but she hadn't counted on an attack from behind, fingers the size of branches wrapping about her torso with a steel grip and yanking her from the ground like a wingless, weightless sparrow. She would have screamed in a terrified reaction but her lungs were crushed and all oxygen knocked out of her in the same violent motion by Bill, the third troll whom she'd failed to see.

The dwarves had jogged back toward the cover of the woods in a rough line formation, ready to retreat, when a troll's thunderous and gruesomely scratchy voice bellowed after them words to freeze them in their tracks. "Wait! Or we tear it apart; limb by limb!"

The nightmare merely kept unfolding for Bailey as she caught sight of the anger in each of her companions' faces, looking up toward her helplessly dangling body. Kili's eyes widened in horror and he jerked forward to, somehow, aid her, shouting her name, but Thorin held him back. Ori, prepared her sling in an instant, a massive stone readied toward the massive opponents. But none took further action for fear of the sight.

Two of the trolls – Bill and Ted, as it were – each grasped one of her arms within their hands, letting the rest of her body hang by them as though she were a rag doll. In that instant, she had nowhere to look for comfort, no apology she could muster, and nothing courageous to shout out to them even if she could manage to breathe: all she could do was prevent collapsing right then and there in an explosion of tears, panic, guilt, and defeat.

It had seemed like hours they held her up there, but only mere seconds had passed before Bill continued his demands. "Surrender or we rip all its limbs right off!"

Each of the dwarves warily glanced toward Thorin, their fingers twitching on the handles of their weapons as their gazes shifted between the trolls and their hostage. Thorin's jaw tightened, sky blue eyes flashing with frustration. But he dropped his broad sword to the ground in silent surrender. Reluctantly, the others followed in suit. Defeated.

With a satisfied grin, Bill chuckled, he and Ted dropping their victim to the ground as per the negotiation. Wincing when she landed on her arm, the shock of the fall jolting up the bone, Bailey whimpered, taking a moment of shame and misery before she was even going to try to climb to her feet.

"That's right, keep it turnin' nice and easy, Bert," Ted expressed with an eager chuckle.

Even with his sniffling through his cold, Bert grinned in agreement. "Oh, these are a delicacy – better cook 'em just right; brown on all sides."

In a wave of malice and glee, the three trolls laughed heartily with odious breath upon their victims.

Seven of the dwarves were squirming and struggling within a mass of ropes, binding them all to a large spit as they hovered, slowly being turned in circles above the crimson flames of the campfire. The other half, along with Bailey, merely got to watch, bound in sacks just tall enough to close tightly around their shoulders.

Over and over, Bailey tested the rope tightening her sack, tried to reach her teeth low enough to bite at them, but it seemed she and the other six dwarves had merely been tossed into a defenseless pile. Exhausted by her pointless attempts to turn things around, Bailey dropped her head back against the shoulder or knee – she wasn't certain – of whatever dwarf she'd been set against, biting her lip hard enough to sting considerably: she had done this. This was all her fault.

"Well, don't be takin' too long, Bert," Bill interjected with a weary scoff. "I would like to have time to enjoy this meal: don't fancy the sun comin' up in the middle of it."

Bailey's gaze perked up toward him the moment he finished his statement, eyes lightening with hope, or at least an idea. So, they didn't like the sun? Maybe that alone could save her companions! Pursing her lips determinedly, the halfling struggled to her feet, pushing with her elbows onto her knees.

"What're you doing, young halfling?" Bofur, the dark-haired, open and honest one of the group – as she'd come to know him – whispered in her direction, heavy eyebrows knit in confusion.

"Shh, I have an idea," Bailey whispered back amidst strained grunts to climb to her feet.

The other dwarves remained silent except for a few indistinct mutters, but Bofur shrugged cooperatively.

"What can I do, Bailey?" Ori whispered, her large scarf that usually veiled her mouth gradually loosening its grip and revealing pinkish lips pursed with readiness.

"Well," Bailey exhaled quietly, wishing for all the world there were holes in the sack where her feet could be – as it were, she was a mere blob of cloth, "You can help me up."

"Okay," Ori nodded quickly, merely paying Bofur a quick glance before squirming her way over to lean her upper back up against his ribcage. She was then positioned to brace her feet behind Bailey's back and push a jumpstart on the halfling with the strength of her legs.

Jerked to her feet with Ori and Bofur's boost, Bailey immediately went to work in trying to catch her balance on her cloth stubs for feet. Luckily, balance was something she was good at; maintaining her footing until she had gained a stable position.

"Think they're about ready?" Ted asked, attempting to look upside down at the flushed faces of the cooking dwarves, who still struggled with all their might to escape their fiery doom. "I'm about ready to just eat 'em raw, my tum's so growlin'."

"Well, I don't want mine strugglin' and squirmin' like worms while I'm tryin' to chew!"

"Just squash yours into jelly then," Bill suggested, "Won't be squirmin' if you've crushed their little beatin' hearts."

"Fiiine," Bert moaned, "I-I just wanted them to be browned right."

"That's very important!" Bailey expressed in a shout, trying to get their attention, and she did. All three of them looked toward her in at least vague surprise. Their eyes, clueless as they may have seemed, still intimidated her into a brief stammer, "Uh-uh to have them browned properly, I mean, because dwarves – that is what they are, of course – dwarves have a very...stringy texture and it detracts from the flavor unless you brown them...at least until their tops are golden." Wincing ever so subtly at the patched up instruction, Bailey made her best impression of a professional who knew exactly what she was talking about.

"See, that's what I've been tryin' to say, Bill!" Bert jumped at the opportunity for his point to be made.

"A-and the best way to eat a dwarf is to..." she paused in search of some possible ingredient to suggest that wouldn't seem too far-fetched, looking toward her companions on the ground who all stared at her with complete incomprehension. "Basil...a-and thyme...just a touch of parsley and, ooh! A slice of lemon, if at all possible, will make it utterly unforgettable!"

"I have those spices!" Bert exclaimed with a slight hop of pure delight and the largest, yellow-toothed grin Bailey had yet to see any of them make, but the response only made Bailey's smile disappear.

"You do?" she asked in hope of him exaggerating.

"Yeah! Well, I'm a bit of a cook meself and I take 'em with me always! And wolfsbane is for when they won't quit squirmin', right?" Tom explained gleefully in between sickened sniffs, uplifting a small leather pack of all his supplies as though it were a prized trophy.

"Weeeell, uh-right, but…that—er, that is wonderful, heh!" Bailey exclaimed in mock excitement, mind racing for other ideas, "So-so now you're ready to prepare your meal...you don't want to cook them like you are right now, you actually want to, er..." she looked toward her companions yet to be over the fire once again. They were all staring expectantly with mouths hanging open and eyes flickering unsurely. "Skin 'em!"

At this, all of their eyes widened to twice their original size. "What?" Kili cried from lying on his face beneath Ori's legs.

"Yup, absolutely, skin 'em," Bailey nodded in absolute certainty, wishing she had as much confidence as she pretended to have. Where was she going with this anyway? Was the sun ever going to come up?

"Oh, well, that makes sense," her ally in the discussion, Bert, submitted with an eager nod, while his two companions merely scoffed in their confusion, gazes moving between the two self-proclaimed chefs.

"So once you've skinned them-Oh!" Bailey forced a terrified gasp as though she had just remembered something, making Bert and most of the dwarves at least jump in surprise. "Oh, no..." she half-whispered to emphasize the importance.

"What?" Ted asked, now entering the conversation, perhaps, out of curiosity for why she'd panicked.

"You cannot eat these dwarves, thank goodness you haven't taken a bite yet!" she exclaimed, shaking her head as though relieved.

"Why?" Ted and Bert asked in practical unison, along with Bombur, and a few others among the dwarves.

"They..." she sucked in her lips, pausing the moment she could've sworn she saw a flicker of white and gray up on the hillside; something moving up there. Perhaps it had merely been a trick of the light...but at least the sun was rising! Just a little longer. Getting back on track, she winced at the supposed 'nasty thought of it' before she let it all out at once as though a difficult truth, "They have worms...nasty, thin...meal...worms, but big ones, _huge_ in their…tubes, and eating these dwarves, dead or alive, it is said you're certain to get them yourselves!"

"What?" Fili shouted from above the troll-sized campfire.

"I don't have any worms!" Kili exclaimed as though offended.

"What are you sayin'? We're not infected!" Dwalin boomed in his confusion, at which point most of the dwarves opened up in several different refutations.

Bailey's eyes rolled, opening her mouth to intervene but she could think of nothing to say that wouldn't blow her cover to the trolls.

Thorin stared silently, eyes pacing in thought for a moment. Within mere seconds of the arguing, he kicked Bofur's back hard to get his attention.

As Bofur cried out in a grunt of pain, the others went silent, their attention drawn to the sound. Thorin met eyes with Bofur, the nearest one, eyes widening meaningfully for a moment.

"I..." Oin suddenly turned his gaze back toward the trolls, who had been all watching in confusion and irritation. "I have lots o' parasites!"

"M-me, too!" Ori hurriedly caught on.

"Oh, I've got the biggest parasites; I've got huge worms!" Kili offered helpfully.

"Massive, the size of my arm!" Bombur loudly exaggerated.

Bailey felt a tiny grin itch its way on her face; _now_ they were getting it.

But Bill's voice rose above all of theirs. "Enough!" he bellowed angrily. "You!" With that he pointed a gnarled finger straight down at Bailey, who froze immediately in silent terror, staring straight back with wide eyes. "Ya don't think I know what you're up to, little ferret?"

"I..." the halfling stuttered in fear, her confidence shattered by the angered thunderous voice. It was then she spotted it once more – the gray figure slipping about the trees just above the cave the camp was seated beside and the sky was lighting up behind it. Within a moment, she realized who it was. "I-I was merely trying to warn you..."

Bill opened his mouth and lifted a nasty, crooked blade from his belt, and Bailey felt her knees crumble; sure she was going to die right then and there. "I changed my mind...on which one I wanna eat first! It's takin' us for fools!"

"The sun will take you all!" the unmistakable voice of the gray wizard blasted into the campsite like a flash of lightning.

The trolls, though surprised, showed no fear for their impending doom. "Who's that?" grumpy Ted half-mumbled in irritation.

"Can we eat 'im, too?" Bert inquired, with a clueless tilt of the head.

Ramming the end of his wooden staff in a burst of light upon the stones atop the roof of the cave, Gandalf said not another word. Shattering into earthen shards, the boulder made way for golden rays of sunshine upon the three startled trolls.

Screams of terror emerged and though they scrambled for some redemption of shade, it was far too late for anything to be done. Within an unbelievably short moment, all three of them froze in place, coated with a dark gray color...their flesh replaced with cold and lifeless stone.

Bailey stared in amazement even as Gandalf climbed his way down to them as though it had all been in a day's work and began to free the company – those wrapped about the large spit first. It wasn't until someone's hands shook her by grasping the rope around her shoulders to cut it that she awoke from her daze.

The friendly and relieved expression of the bright-faced, red-haired Ori looked at her the same time Bailey turned to _her_, smiling almost proudly. "You alright?" she asked cheerily, easily sawing through the halfling's bonds.

"I-..." Bailey almost immediately answered but stopped in the middle, curling her lips inward to prevent the words from coming at first. "Now, yes..." clearing her throat, she finished with a bonus of assurance and a returned friendly smile as her previous cloth prison dropped to her feet, "Yes, right as rain."

"You have not lost your touch with your timing, my friend," Thorin exhaled, reaching immediately for his sword upon his bonds being cut. Gandalf chuckled, moving over to Bombur next. "Where did you run off to?" the dwarf prince continued, eyes narrowing inquisitively.

"I went to look ahead," the wizard sighed, standing once more as the freed Bombur scrambled to his feet.

"And what brought you back?" the dwarven prince crossed his arms, an apologetic trace narrowly shading his eyes.

"By looking behind…" Gandalf softly replied.

A spell of silence passed before Thorin nodded, leaving it at that with his icy gaze glancing over toward the group. "Seems we survived the night…no thanks to the burglar you gave us."

Gandalf smiled softly, eyes lowering to the ground. "Well, she had the mind to stall for time..." Upon meeting with the prince's questioning gaze, the wizard added to his statement. "None of _you_ thought of that."

Thorin's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, looking over at the halfling as she followed behind Fili and Kili toward the trees to find their ponies, brushing in disgust her adulterated skirt. But he'd nothing more to say on the matter, whether or not he agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh, that's better!" Bailey exhaled, stretching one of her gardening button-up shirts over the fresh set of dark pants she'd slipped into. Her hands then bravely ventured up to redo her ponytail despite the gradually crusting troll snot.

Balin chuckled, turning his crinkled eyes toward her as she emerged and leaning against a nearby tree for his turn on watch. "Ya didn't fancy the forget-me-not from the trolls?"

Bailey pursed her lips in an ironic grin, finger-combing her wavy, chestnut hair. "Ohh, there's...nothing I want to remember about last night, Balin..." the smile faltered as her emotions were reborn within. "I nearly got all of you killed..."

"Ah," the snow-bearded dwarf shrugged easily, standing to approach her, "Bailey, we never would have ventured on such a journey if we were unwilling to face danger; even death. And this company is not about every one for himself: we are a family...we look out for one another." He completed the statement with an almost beaming smile in her direction.

Unsteadily, Bailey's lips managed a soft smile. "Thank you...Balin."

"Ah, you are beginning to remember our names!" Balin pointed out with a laugh.

The comment at least allowed a grin from the troubled hobbit as she chuckled softly. "I-I am!" she stammered her way into a pleasanter spirit.

"Balin, Bailey!" Ori stood yards from them, grinning a bit triumphantly. "You won't believe what we've found in the trolls' cave!"

Within the dark tunnel several of the dwarves were busily digging, burying something. It was then Bailey caught sight of the bundle of gold in Bombur's plump arms as he made his way toward a hole he'd dug up.

Eyebrows lifting in surprise, Bailey turned her gaze up to Gandalf as he approached. "I...didn't realize trolls were such...fortune-seeking creatures," she commented with a small delighted laugh – never had she seen even a glimpse of such treasure except in books.

"Yes," Gandalf smiled easily, busily tying the sheath of a sword to his belt, "It appears they have stolen much for their pleasures...blades such as these are the craftsmanship of the elves."

"Ah," Bailey nodded slowly, eyes pacing the elegant engraving even on simply the hilt of Gandalf's acquired weapon. "Far too beautiful for trolls to have made them...I don't suppose we'll encounter any of them...elves?"

Gandalf opened his mouth to answer, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, when Thorin stepped toward them to speak up instead. "No, indeed, we will avoid their cities. They are no friend to our kind," the prince stated firmly, resting a hand on the hilt of a new sword he had also acquired from the treasure.

Bailey tilted her head curiously, restraining any comment on his wielding one of the so-called enemy's weapons; much as she desired to rudely point it out considering who it was.

Thorin's eyes flickered as though observing the line of her eyes toward the elven craft at his side. "However, their blades are spoils of the war; I will say nothing against their reliability in their craft; merely in everything else."

Bailey wanted to scoff but her eyes could only soften upon catching the tint of bitterness poisoning his words. He must've had a reason.

Thorin's eyes moved away from the hobbit to call to his party, "We move on!" At that, he climbed out of the cave once again. "Gloin, Bombur, Nori!" He specified those still attempting to bury their discovered treasures.

Meanwhile Gandalf turned to Bailey to grab her attention. "Bailey."

"Hm, yes?" she replied, abruptly shifting her gaze up to the wizard and pushing away previous thoughts.

Eyes crinkling down at her, Gandalf held a small blade before her. "The burglar ought also to have a weapon, should she not?"

Bailey's mouth opened, but she found herself stunned coming face to face with the silver dagger before her – glimmering as though it were brand new, yet polished with engravings of foreign meaning, as though its fate were already laid out before it. Almost forgetting to accept the offer, Bailey quickly moved to take it within her hand. "Um-thank you...Gandalf," she expressed with a soft, uneasy smile, "But I…don't know how to fight…" Even so, she couldn't help wrapping her fingers around it.

"You..." Gandalf interjected gently, "May find use for it yet, Bailey."

Settled by the statement, Bailey simply nodded, eyes lighting with a glint of anticipation. Terrified, weary, and guilt-ridden as she was by what had already come to pass, she could not suppress a small, near unnoticeable spark within her heart, full of wonder for what dangers and mystery she might have yet to encounter.

"Pack it up," Thorin called outside to the dwarves who'd followed him, obeying yet talking amongst themselves beneath the radiant daylight shimmering through the thick woodland.

Smiling briefly at Gandalf once more, Bailey moved to follow as well, fingers wrapped admiringly about the handle of her new weapon, tying it to dangle from her belt. _If I ever write about this adventure back home, my new blade, you shall have a name in the tale._


End file.
